Adagio
by TheWillOfMythal
Summary: Piper is learning. Alex is a patient teacher. But the pulse of music must be felt. It requires commitment and devotion. With Alex though, the prerequisite of dedication comes effortlessly to Piper. One shot. Early Vauseman Vanilla.


Hi everyone!

I know I'm back already even if just yesterday I've posted the new chapter of my other Vauseman fic "Syzygy", but... I really wanted to give you this little something I've been working on.

Just some soft, intimate Vauseman time. It takes place pretty early in their relationship. Nothing kinky or anything like that. For once, this is actually pretty vanilla, so that might be a change of... tune :) I've just been attempting something new by linking Vauseman to something just as passionate and romantic and beautifully, fascinatingly complex as music. I don't know, I found it... fitting :)

Anyway, here you go...

Enjoy

* * *

You could do this for hours.

Get lost in the heady fragrance and the equally intoxicating, sharp, sweetly salty tang that is her essence.

It's like you imagine must be playing a musical instrument.

And Alex lets you learn her like she is made of strings, even if you have none of that trained tactility, you can still practice some of the strokes you already know and test a few others that work on you and that you have been curious to try on her.

You have only done this less than a handful of times, so your still raw, unpracticed skills definitely don't fall anywhere near her expert, masterful, deft touch.

But it's hard to feel in the least self-conscious when you have those encouraging sighs and quiet moans laced with a few, occasional, mumbled expletives rewarding all of your devoted efforts.

The fact that she isn't as... vocal... as you are, makes hearing those sounds all the more thrilling. Because it means that whatever you are doing is affecting her enough to _earn you_ those breathy, sweetly husky moans that, paired with the wet, suckling ones that you make with your tongue and lips between her legs, are quickly becoming your new favorite genre of music.

You listen closely to the melody composed by each single, accented sound that she makes.

From when those notes first form, growing hot and tight in her chest, until you hear the way they somehow seem to catch a bit in her throat on the way up, where they get that hissing little vibration in between one breath and the next before they slip so delicately past her lips.

You let those sweet noises guide you in your search for that thread that once pulled, gently, carefully, will have the spring coil of pleasure nestled deep down in her belly to unfurl in what you are making sure is going to be the most thorough, satisfying and enjoyable way.

You are _eager_ to get her there, but definitely in no rush.

_Oh no..._

And Alex surely seems to appreciate the thoroughness that you pay her with of each one of your attentions.

She certainly takes pleasure in the culmination you aim for with every single one of your touches, but more than that, she enjoys the entirety of the ride at a whole other refreshing level that has her purposefully delay the inevitable to pursue what is most definitely going to be an even more intense release.

You hate a little the fact that you don't have any other... measurement method for what you are doing than compare _this_ to the other poor and unpleasant (even regrettable) experiences that you had about pleasuring someone in a similar way.

It actually feels like you might be tainting these new memories you are creating here with her by remembering the clumsy touch of idiotic, careless, and far-too-eager boys who wanted too much too soon, leaving you barely any time to breathe, literally. Where all there was were harsh, messy rocking motions and howled, guttural, strident and dissonant noises. Just... tuneless, unrequited lust.

But _this_...

Whenever Alex touches you and reaches down and slips her fingers through your hair, holding onto the back of your head, is not to push you forward in a wordless, rude demand for more.

It's a simple, earnest need for connection. Her touch gentle and affectionate in an authentic effortless way that renders this all the more meaningful.

The way she cants her hips forward is not to show unsatisfaction, to coax you to speed up your rhythm and provide more contact and stimulation than the one you are offering her. She rolls them gently, complimenting your touch by chasing the warmth of your mouth, the slippery swirls of your tongue, and especially, the suckling seal of your lips whenever you wrap them around her, flicking the tip of your tongue across that firm little bundle of nerves that elicits the sweetest notes from her lips.

Although you have to say that the more you do it, the less the differences seems to be in the whole going-down-on-a-woman thing, and more in the fact that Alex is actually an extremely thoughtful and gentle, overall patient (as well as an extraordinarily passionate and talented) lover.

There is no expressing how much you appreciate her gentleness, to the lack of any that you have suffered from those others poor excuses of experiences you've had before meeting her.

But for how much her kindness and thoughtfulness set something dangerously warm and flickery within you that sends your heart on overdrive, you absolutely _revel _when she gets close to toeing that edge, where the height is already taking away that tiny bit of control over her body and the vigor that she possesses. Giving you a delightful first taste of _it_.

Her hand tightens just enough, fingers twitching with a barely suppressed strength against your scalp, nails scratching so exquisitely that a moan is ripped out from your lips, vibrating against her already throbbing clit, and sending a new sharp pang of pleasure through her system.

It's the first sample of roughness that you have gotten from her. A glimpse that has allowed you to see that she has more. And... God help you... You want _more_.

_So_ much more.

You wonder if maybe there is a way you can trigger it, maybe even go as far as learning_ how_ to get that reaction each time you'll crave to feel her like _that_.

But... you are going ahead of yourself.

You'll have all the time in the world to sate your curiosity and draw a thorough map of how she functions.

Getting a couple of chords right is a whole different thing than properly learning how to play the beautifully complex musical instrument that Alex is and make her properly _sing_.

Alex instead... She has already given proof of how her passion and knowledge can play the most beautiful melodies once she gets her hands and mouth on your body, which blossoms open under her nimble, considerate touch.

Although... you might be getting your first calluses already. If the delightfully rewarding sting in your jaw and the equally satisfying ache in your wrist can be compared to ones in this kind of metaphor.

Getting a full set is definitely something you look forward to.

For the moment though, things are already far more exciting than your pounding heart and quivering insides (and uncomfortably wet lower regions) are able to handle at once upon seeing her like this.

Her body is the whole orchestra director that leads the rhythm of one of the most primal and all-consuming needs, doing all it can to control its glorious, impetuous flow.

Until it can't. By definition.

Until your attentions are just that tiny bit too much for her to keep delaying any longer.

Every muscle of her body tenses up (and there they are, those fingers twitching against your scalp before her hand fist your hair). Every string gets pulled impossibly tight.

But she doesn't snap.

Her pleasure flows through her like a suave, romantic guitar arpeggio. Like dropping a stone in the center of a lake and see the surface of the water ripple and crease, folding on itself towards the shore.

Watching her reach that peak and then coming back down from her height might be the most exquisite sight you have ever witnessed. The music that she makes the sweetest that has ever brushed your ears. And the sense of fulfillment and... pride that swells inside you at the feeling of her core clenching and twitching under you, _around you, _knowing that_ you _are the reason for it_,_ is most definitely the most intoxicating you have ever experienced in your entire life.

Her spine arches off the bed, her head tilts back, the column of her neck left exposed to display veins and tendons sculpted into the white marble of her skin.

She looks like a goddess descended back to earth from the Olympus.

You observe the scene completely mesmerized. Raptured in awe. Relenting your movements just a bit, but keeping up with your methodical string of alternated licks and suckles. Continuing, resolutely (albeit in a more gentle manner) until her body gives one last long head-to-toe shiver and you hear her orgasm fade out into a delightful, husky, slightly shaky sigh of pure contentment as she slumps back against the pillows with unfair, enviable elegance and composure.

Chest heaving, a thin layer of sweat coating her skin - usually a perfect, flawless alabaster - now flushed into the most complimentary shade of pink.

The term afterglow takes a whole new meaning at the sight of Alex like _this_.

There is this... _luster _of some exceptionally rare jewel surrounding her that, if possible, makes her look even more beautiful and ethereal, simply _sublime,_ offering a new, more serious weight and perspective to that whole "divine" thought you had but a few moments ago.

Her vocal cords vibrate as she recovers. Deep and low. Like the ones of a violin, but... more profound. More like a cello. Because that sound may come from her throat, but it originates from somewhere within the depths of her belly.

A sound that fades so gently you are left hearing its echo long afterwards, already branded in your mind by the same scorching, sizzling fire of passion.

And it's then that you feel it in full. That same happy, glowy feeling - swelling hot and proud in your chest - that you have never experienced with anyone else before.

You are still licking your lips when the hand laced in your hair slips to the back of your neck and gives a little tug - gentle yet purposeful enough to make you know it's deliberate; a wordless request that you meet greedily.

As you look up, the first sight you are met with when she angles her head downwards to glance at you, is the smirk shaping her lips. It's a bit crooked, her eyes have lost some of that predatory sharpness, but they still pierce right through you with an intensity that you would find disturbing if it wasn't for the fact that you _crave_ to have that look directed at you along with the hunger that lits up in those precious aqua-green gems - as fiercely as you crave a taste of those plump rosy, faintly smirking lips.

You don't have to wait long for that. Because Alex leans down and you, impatiently, lift yourself from your elbows and onto your hands, crawling forward and meeting her halfway up.

It's so distracting - the enveloping heat that you find as soon as your lips touch and then part, welcoming you inside her mouth, that you only distantly notice the swift motion that has Alex flip you over and invert your position. Sure, your head gives a little, dizzy-like kind of twirl, but... that could be for another reason _entirely_. Something that may be linked to the erratic pulse of your heart swelling with _that_ sentiment slowly taking form inside the cavity of your chest.

Either way, you only become aware of your new position when you feel the softness of the mattress pressed against your back, and the gently firm, bodily-warm weight pinning you down onto it.

You part for air, and when you blink your eyes open..._ There she is._

Hovering over you.

_Grinning_ down at you.

All bright, precious emerald eyes and unrestrained excitement.

Ready to go on repeat. Da capo- _from top_, quite literally,_ of course._

"Think you can handle a duet, kid?" She asks, but she is not truly expecting a verbal reply since, apparently, she takes the lustful look in your eyes and the subtle way your hips cant forward from beneath her and the tiny needy, slightly (embarrassingly) off-pitch whimper that slips from your lips with your next exhale, as all the answer she needs.

She chuckles, low and harmonic, so warmly melodic as she makes her way down your body.

Despite that sound that just got caught a bit in your throat, resulting in an embarrassing mewl, you don't need tuning.

You may lack your usual eloquence, but every other part of you is already vibrating with readiness. Still, Alex doesn't turn down the occasion to tests such readiness for herself with nimble touches, tender kisses and teasing nibbles that may or may not make you gasp a breathless version of her name with the new spike of arousal that transfixes you right through your pulsing core.

But that's not all that it is to it.

Because the display of such devotion and tenderness sprinkled with a sample of hinted roughness (delivered by her teasingly nipping teeth, and of which you have every intention to elicit more of later) it's all part of the same musical composition that makes that... glorious feeling trapped inside your ribcage leap and bounce even more frantically around your insides, throbbing so exquisitely as it seeps into the chambers of your heart and gets pumped through your veins, blazing through your system at a far more enthusiastic tempo.

But you don't even get to worry about being off the beat.

Soon enough in fact, just as that pulse spikes up, it also adjusts when her hand finds its way at the apex of your thighs, her mouth tracing a sweetly burning, faintly moist line down your neck and chest. Your thigh slipping between hers, one of your hands reaching up and getting tangled in the rich thick mane of her marvelous dark hair, the other cupping the firm swell of her backside, pulling her closer as your bodies start moving together out of their own (seemingly already established) accord.

Still, to avoid any possible stumbling, you follow her lead.

And this time, your motif starts indeed as a duet.

It quickly evolves into harmony as you get bolder and replace your thigh with your hand. Producing a simultaneous blend of pleasing pitches.

Then, the woodwinds of your combined sighed breaths come in.

The basses representing the low pulses of pleasure coiled tightly within your bellies and slowly unfurling, follow suit.

And after those - in crescendo - the stronger percussions of your thrumming, almost perfectly-synced heartbeats join in.

And by then... It's already symphony.

* * *

**No matter which tuning or key they settle on, whenever these two join in such intimate way, they are both master composers of lovemaking. Thanks for reading everyone :)**


End file.
